Ammunition 15.2 VOTING AND PROMO

It was nice to go home. While Kylie and I are nowhere near where we should be for the betterment of Zoey, I find that we are not only able to be civil in our little angel’s presence, but that she is actually a pretty good mother. Unfortunately, there are times where I see Zoey and I think about how she was made. This particular memory has caused personal strife within. But that is overpowered by the fact that I have a daughter, and I pretty much have a son. While I am more than well off, and given that my daughter’s mother is a website developer and Jaime is a successful wedding planner, my kids will be more than supported. But the extra income from being FMW Champion can only help.

Still, I don’t want to lose touch with the life I have outside of James and Zoey, and since they are fast becoming more important to me than anything, I feel that my life without them, should complement the one with them. With this said, I think it’s time to tie-up some loose ends with Detective Hunter. I have not hung out with her in a while, with me recently moving across Canada from Halifax to Vancouver in order to be closer to home. Truthfully, I’ll likely re-settle in San Jose sooner rather than later. Hunter and I have communicated enough to remain aware of the other’s existence. She has done a lot for me in terms of being a friend when I needed one, given my rift with Alex O’Rion. As I walk past the Vancouver Police Department, I am comforted, oddly, by the sight of a familiar face.

Austin: Detective Hunter? It’s surprising to see you here.

Hunter: Is it, Chris? After all, I grew up in Vancouver.

Austin: True. Have you stopped in to catch up with others?

Hunter: In a way yeah, but actually, I’ve been transferred to Vancouver P.D.

Austin: Really? How did this come about?

Hunter: Well, John’s faltering marriage really began to take a toll on our partnership, affected our field work, our ability to close cases. I eventually had no choice but to file for a transfer of partner and Halifax did me one better, transferred me across the country.

Ah, Couture. I knew he was having trouble but was unaware it had gotten to that point. I hope it works out for him, actually. I follow Hunter into the building as we continue to make small talk.

Austin: Sounds like you got a raw deal.

Hunter: Not so bad, I’ve missed home to be honest and I think the split was best. We’re still on good terms but, it was what needed to be done.

Austin: Well, welcome home then.

Hunter: I think I should be welcoming you. Didn’t you just move here?

Austin: Yeah, and you know this how?

Hunter: You’d be surprised what you hear in terms of gossip while standing in line for coffee. Word to the wise, you’ve got some fans that may know a little too much about your day to day.

Austin: If it gets out of hand, I can just report it to you instead of taking matters into my own hands.

Hunter: You think you’ll be able to come clean again about getting ra-

Austin: HEY. Don’t discuss that in public.

Hunter: Aww… someone’s a little sensitive.

Austin: Whatever.

I figured that would one day bite me in the ass. As I try to hide my reddening face, Detective Hunter chuckles, amused at my situation. I glare at her as she finishes setting up her desk presumably. She then sits down, but not without warm greetings to her co-workers, a few that she apparently went through academy with. I study their faces, wondering if I may have to avoid them in the future. I am no saint after all, but I think I’ll be behaved. My kids need me. And honestly, it’s comforting that James and Zoey don’t know of what I’ve done and tried to do. To them, I have a clean slate. I am pure as they are. I have a fresh start, one that was long overdue.

Austin: So… I take it the Mamba case of yours never got solved?

Hunter: No. We were warming on a couple of suspects but before we could take that next step, the professional rift between John and I was too large to fix. Maybe Couture and his new partner can bring it home.

Lucky me and lucky Alex O, too. It’s best she remain unaware of my personal annihilation of any remnants of that group. I look on as she places the finishing touches on setting up her work area.

Austin: It’s a shame, that should have been a big break for your career.

Hunter: Can’t win them all, Christopher.

Fuck Drew Michaels.

Austin: Really? “Christopher”? Why so formal?

Hunter: I’m sorry, I guess (changes voice to a droning, deadpan inflection) “Detective Hunter” is quite informal.

Austin: Touche. But Detec-… Nicole, it really does suck that it didn’t work out for you.

Hunter: See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?

We both chuckle lightly as the air of awkwardness dissipates.

Austin: Will you be out in the field today, or at the desk?

Hunter: Neither, mostly here to set up my work station. Not scheduled to start duty for a couple of days.

Austin: Ah… well maybe you can show me around town, this is a bit of a new place for me after all.

Hunter: No problem, just let me know when you’re free.

Austin: I’m free when you are.

Hunter: You are, are you? What about all of your training and scouting for the wrestling thing you do?

Austin: It’s not a thing, it’s my art. I take it very seriously.

Hunter: Well, touchy-touchy.

Austin: Besides, today’s an off day for me, I’d rather spend some time being normal.

Hunter: Ha-ha-ha-ha.

Today’s not an off day for me really but I have some time and I want to get to know the city that my children may one day live in, if I don’t move back. Who better to show me around than someone I trust, who additionally was born and bred here? I stare on as her laugh fades away choppily.

Hunter: Oh, you’re serious about this normal thing…

Austin: Precisely.

Hunter: Total shot in the dark here, but do you like “The Big Bang Theory”?

Austin: It’s a pretty good show, yeah.

Hunter: So if I start calling you Sheldon you’ll know why, right?

Austin: Wow…

In her defense, humans aren’t things I generally trust yet, I need something to restore… what is it… my faith in humanity. As I eye Nicole, hmm… I just lost my thought…

Hunter: You’ve got issues.

You have NO idea.

Hunter: But you have this weird knack for humor. It’s completely accidental, really.

Austin: Maybe you have a unique sense of humor and I happen to appeal to it.

Hunter: Perhaps. Anyway, I’m all done here so let’s head out. I know of a few places that you’ll probably like.

Austin: After you, Nicole.

I extend my hand and she walks past confidently. I proceed beside her as I take in the various looks of what appears to be judgment. I pay them no mind.

Hunter: See, you’re loosening up already. Vancouver looks good on you. Now if only we can get you away from that whole “Go San Jose” pitfall.

Austin: Don’t bet on it. By the way… did I tell you I have a daughter now?

Hunter: Really? Congratulations! This makes two kids, right? What’s her name?

Austin: Zoey. She’s absolutely precious…

And so this ends with me telling Nicole about how Zoey, along with James, gives me a new perspective on things. Which reminds me, the Canucks play the Sharks soon and it’s time my babies were exposed to the tumultuous fandom of the San Jose Sharks. I’m concerned if the Shark Tank, or the HP Pavilion for you non-hockey folk, will be too much with all the noise and such. Maybe we’ll watch it on TV. Eh, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it and focus on what awaits me: Vancouver through the eyes of Nicole Hunter. Maybe it’ll offer a better understanding of things and perhaps of someone who seems to understand me better than some.


Philadelphia, Pennsylvania is a very beautiful city, so long as you understand the value of the history and culture of this, the city of Brotherly Love. With my tour over, I decide to pay a visit to the home of the Michaels family. I am sure that dropping by unannounced is likely ill-advised but given Deveraux’s recent idiocy, he should be home. However, I did not expect his wife, Juliet, to answer the door.

Juliet: Ah yes… it’s you.

Austin: And it’s you. How are you today?

Juliet: Fine. What can I help you with?

Austin: I’m looking to speak with Drew.

Juliet: About?

Austin: Faith.

Juliet: With all due respect, I think it’s a bit too late for you.

Austin: Perhaps. Now, would you be so kind as to tell your husband that he has a visitor?

Juliet leaves to get Drew. I can tell that she’s trying to be polite but judging by the roll of her eyes, she knows enough to have a low opinion of me. I am unmoved by her beliefs. Yes, as a talent scout she had a hand in helping me get a job in FMW but I think my treatment of her husband annoys her more. And speaking of annoying…

Michaels: Christopher… to what do I owe this… pleasure.

Austin: How are you?

Michaels: Like you care. Have you really come to my home in order to further goad me into a match with you?

Austin: No and you’re right, I don’t really care so I’ll be brief. I want talk to you about faith.

Michaels: Faith? What does William’s daughter have to do with anything? I would not tell you where she is even if I knew, as nothing good can come of you crossing paths with her.

Austin: No, you idiot. I mean, faith, as in belief.

You say a few words, you make some unwelcome advances and everyone pegs you as a rapist…

Michaels: Juliet is not exactly in the mood to see you or anyone right now so let us talk outside, if that is fine with you.

Austin: Whatever. I don’t want to be here longer than I need to.

So we begin to walk to my ’67 Impala (yes, Alex O’Rion, I hear your jealousy from here) and I notice that Drew is having some difficulty walking. His body is not the same as it used to be and this troubles me. I am not in the business of ending a man’s career unless warranted and despite my desire to prove a point I don’t want to take advantage of Drew.

Michaels: So, faith. What about it?

Austin: Have you ever had your faith challenged? Have you ever believed in something for so long, the purity of it… and then suddenly it isn’t the same?

Michaels: I cannot say I have experienced what you are describing but you are living proof of me believing in something only to see it fall by the wayside and become something… for lack of a better term, horrible.

Austin: Leave your personal feelings out of this. My concern lies in FMW, and moreover the legacy of the FMW Championship.

Michaels: You know better than anyone how much I love FMW for what she has brought me, and you know that the FMW Championship is arguably the greatest accomplishment I have ever achieved in my professional career. Nothing that has happened to me, changes that I see these two entities for what they truly are: something that should be cherished and preserved.

Austin: Even with what Nick did to the FMW Championship and before that, Hannibal?

Michaels: I am not surprised that Nicholas resorted to such disrespect. As for Hannibal… some people just are not ready for the responsibility.

Austin: No need to be stoic with me. As a former champion, you can’t sit here and tell me with a straight face that you weren’t at all hurt by what he did. You have been battered, beaten, bloodied, broken and screwed in the name of that championship. You have overcome near insurmountable odds for that championship, and you tell me that to see someone merely toss it aside like a gutter whore all in the name of “sending a message” doesn’t bother you?

I study Drew as he looks towards the ground, eyes glaring a hole into the earth and his jaw clenched. I can sense that what I have said has struck a nerve with him.

Austin: No one wants a championship that isn’t treated like one. Without a reason to fight, a reason to improve, people stop fighting. People stop improving… FMW ceases to –

Michaels: ENOUGH!

Austin: Do I have your attention now?

Michaels: Christopher… you do not play mind games with people that are better at it than you. Your outlandish claims about the FMW Championship’s legacy will never hold weight with me.

Austin: Your outburst just then says that deep down, you know I’m right. You were the top dog when FMW was at its best. You know better, frankly. My class and I deserve to know and believe better than what we’ve been given.

Michaels: Christopher…

Austin: Tell me I’m completely and utterly wrong on every account and I’ll leave right now.

Michaels: …

Austin: Put your pride aside. Go ahead.

Michaels: Some of what you are saying may in fact, potentially be true.

Austin: Then help me.

Michaels: What?

Believe me, I was shocked to say it too.

Austin: Help me.

Michaels: Help you… do what?

Austin: Help me to understand that the current FMW Championship is worth fighting for.

Michaels: As much as I wish I could, I cannot.

Austin: Why not?

Michaels: Because you need your own reason and justification. I have my reasons for wanting to be FMW Champion, you need your own and I am surprised that you do not have them.

Austin: I have many reasons.

Michaels: So what is the problem?

Austin: I must teach FMW to understand those reasons.

Michaels: This is something you have to do on your own. You have made great strides in the mental side of wrestling, and while living your gimmick outside of the ring is weird, know this. If you have total faith in something, then the only person stopping you is yourself. Now if you do not mind, I would like to finish reading comics with my son.

Michaels grimaces as he goes to leave. I look towards him as something hits me… his words make sense. I stare at him before I turn to leave. But I do figure I owe him this time.

Austin: Drew…

Michaels: Christopher.

Austin: Thank you.

Michaels: No problem. Also, congratulations on the daughter. Alexander says she is beautiful.

I merely nod at him then leave. I now have a better understanding of what faith is, and why I should have it. I feel as if I’m learning more every day and doing so without putting my body through the rigors of training is refreshing. But now, I have a familiar opponent to annihilate, and this time I have a bigger reason to annihilate him besides the usual “because I can”.

Dazz = Red

Briggy = Blue

Johnboy = Green

Receptionist at Radio Station = Yellow

Graham Richards, Radio DJ = Orange

Book Store Manager = Violet

PA Man at Rugby = White

*Dazz Andrews is seen waiting outside a tall building belonging to a local radio station. He is avidly talking on his phone, assumingly to Briggy or Johnboy. After a minute, Dazz walks in to the building.*

Hi there.

Hi, I’m here for the radio interview with Graham at 11 o Clock.

Ah, Yes, just go on right through, he’s playing a song.

*Dazz walks in, and Graham shakes his hand.*

Just pop these headphones on; I’ll introduce you after this song.

*The song, ironically is Not Afraid by Eminem, and Dazz hears the 1….2…..3 on the day he lost to Michaels.*

Hello this is TFM, Todays Favourite Music, I’m Graham Richards with you from 10 till 2 with the Mid-day
show, and I’m now joined by a very special guest, whose with me till 12.30, where he has to catch the Train to the gym to do training I believe, and this is a regular thing for Dazz as Dazz is a Professional Wrestler.

I am. That’s my day job.

What a job is it to have, is it exciting?

Well obviously my next fight is only my second on a big stage, but the one previous time I was in against a
legend of the business, I mean this guy is respected company-wide, and I was told I was dominating him, but in the end he beat me, but it was still very exciting.

Sounds it, so you’ve returned back home, because incase you didn’t know Dazz grew up and is billed from
Port Clarence.

I am, indeed I am.

So why’ve you returned home?

I am hyping and spreading word about my next fight and the whole event in general.

So what is your fight and the event?

Well the events Ammunition 15.2, a huge main event there between Anwyl and Skyler Striker, that’s pretty
huge, and there’s my fight, which is a TV title fight between myself and Jonathan King, I’ll be there in the Orleans Arena trying to win the title.

And where you can see this?

The events sold out, but you can see it on TV, PPV, Torrent Sites, Live stream, Youtube, you know anywhere
there’s so many places.

Ok, now I heard that in certain segments of a show you have to do “Trash Talking”

Correct.

What is that?

Basically, you just have to talk to your opponent and insult them, hype a match, say how bad they are etc.

So you could do some Trash Talk now?

Sure, who too?

Me.

You?

Yeah.

Trash Talk about what?

How bad a DJ I am?

Ok, here goes: Oh, how bad a DJ you are? That’s easy enough, I won’t be running out of any points here, I
mean first off we people have to listen to your voice 20 hours a week, I mean can you please sound as though you’re interested, you act as though your commentating on paint dry, also can you please change your music, nobody wants to hear Eminem, that’s the theme song of a loser.

Actually, that’s the theme tune of the guy that beat you.

Easy, don’t want to Port Plunge you.

Ok, well that was good. Thanks, I feel really good now. But I’ve asked all the questions I want too, now I’m
going to let the TFM listeners ask them. Email me on graham@tfmradio.com, comment on the Facebook link, tweet me at @GrahamTFM, or ring me on 01642 234123.

*1 hour 15 minutes later.*

Well, I’d like to thank my guest Dazz for his company. Sorry no questions came in.

*Dazz is visibly upset.*

It’s fine.

Good luck in your title match.

See ya.

*Graham offers his hand to Dazz, but Dazz walks off.*

*Dazz gets out his phone and calls Johnboy.*

Yo, Bastards didn’t even ask me shit. So now I gotta think of something else.

*We cut to Briggy posting something on a noticeboard, and see it, it advertises a Dazz Andrews book signing, a book which he written himself called “A Port Plunge” This was done in 2 weeks so is rushed. We cut to the store, which is empty.*

You know, I’m only letting you sit in this shop for nothing because I thought I’d get a 50% cut of the sales.
It’s been 7 hours and you haven’t sold a thing, shop shuts in half an hour.

Look, what if I come back tomorrow?

No, not tomorrow or any day. Just get out.

*Dazz stands up and upends the table, sending Books and Pens flying. He storms out, grabbing the sunglasses Briggy offers him without so much as even looking at him.*

S’up with you?

Nobody wants nowt from me?

Don’t worry, there’s one last thing.

What shit have you done for me now?

No trust me, you’ll like it.

Will I?

Yes.

What is it?

Well you know the West Hartlepool v Bishop Auckland Rugby Match this Sunday at West?

No, but I suspect I maybe be about too.

You’re coming out at half time to be interviewed.

You’re both idiots.

Why?

This won’t work.

Might as well try though Dazz.

Oh all right, but if this goes wrong I’m just going to have to accept that the community doesn’t know me.

*We see Briggy and Johnboy in the stand. Briggy is decked out in West Hartlepool colours, where as Johnboy has a West Hartlepool RFC Scarf draped round him.*

There’s half time, where’s he at?

There’s the PA bloke, here he is, must be?

Ladies and Gentlemen, score at Half Time is West Hartlepool 12-7 Bishop Auckland, and now for the guest of
honour, Dazz Andrews!

*Johnboy and Briggy clap vigorously, but they are the only ones that do, as Dazz comes out and raises his arms to the crowd that aren’t acknowledging him. Slowly, a “Who are ya” chant breaks out.

So Dazz, who are ya?

*The PA bloke laughs at his joke, but Dazz throws the mic in his face, storms down the corridor, and turns to the camera that has been following him.*

You know what, me not getting recognition is 2 peoples fault. Drew Michaels and Jonathan King. Drew, I beat you all match, yet you just beat me. Why couldn’t it be the other way round? You put me over, say I’m your last opponent, and then say you want other people? That’s taking things away from me, but not what that dork King has. King, you think it’s funny to make jokes about me because you come from money huh? You think anyone with a quid or dollar or buck or whatever less than you is a peasant. But it’s Not just that our match is billed as your first title match, and I get no recognition. Guess you are facing the invisible man, Jonathan. You better watch out though, because the invisible man may give you a Port Plunge. I’m going to prove a point. I want to prove to that Radio DJ, the book salesman, the Rugby PA man, and most importantly the people of Teesside. I will show you that I am to be taken seriously, and Jonathan King, I’m going to take your title and do it at your expense!

*Dazz gets an A4 picture of Jonathan King, and tears it in half to close the promo.*

The scene gently fades into a cascade of images from the greatest moments of the Sons of Attrition’s time in FMW. From the Full Metal championship rising moment with Hannibal Frost, to the highly emotional reward of Celt’s UV victory. With the additions of a TV Title reign and a run at the Abandoned Title it was a stable resume only comparably to the likes of HavOc in its glory days. And it was all hard earned. Nothing was given, nothing was bribed, it was a challenge from day one, and in the end. SoA did Everything.

Hannibal took charge and dared to defy his critics with a meteoritic rise to the top tier in FMW.

The Celt showed that persistence paid off, that with demons of the past finally vanquished, the spoils of victory were oh so sweet.

David GS showcased his dark horse personality, capturing the TV title in his unending growth throughout 2011.

And Leon, in the face of adversity final stepped out of the shadows left by his former mentor and made an image of being selfless to the cause.

SoA truly did do it all, seemingly everything, all on their own with an ironic constant dose of attrition.




The popular line of detest that Leon threw onto every detective, or cop that tried to solve the seemingly insolvable case of his missing daughter. It had been 127 hours since baby Joy had been pronounced missing, and 150 since she was last seen, a fact that only ate more at Leon with every heart-pumping, tear-dropping hour. It was only months ago that he had been given the mammoth responsibility of being a father, yet here he was, as the legal guardian and father of Joy and she was now nowhere to be seen. But that wasn’t where Leon left the issue. He didn’t believe in the detectives, he didn’t trust the cops, because he had a passion that no-one else could fathom, a passion that would never end until she was found.

And he would need nothing from anyone to continue to fuel that passion.




Through the thick and thin, he still remained faithful to Sarah. Even though their child was missing and Leon was encapsulated with work commitments and overseas travels he still tried to contact her regularly, persisting to get her to calm down and enjoy the limited interactions they could share. It was beyond minimal though. With the personal circumstances clouding the relationship, Leon couldn’t check up on her, not with how tense work was now, or how much she longed for him to walk through the wooden doors of their house, with baby Joy tight in his grasp.

Yet he would often find himself laying down in the king sized bed that resided within his quarters of The Mansion, wishing, and praying that she would be lying beside him at that moment. That beyond work and the investigation, she would be there…




How can you summaries up a career in FMW? How can you put your feelings into words and hope to maintain a high level of dignity and stature. That although his world was crumbling around him, how was Leon meant to keep pushing through the crap he was constantly dealing with on a daily routine. Whether it was the high intensity of his schedule, comprised of photo shoots, fan interactions and interviews where ever he appeared in public, or the simple fact that his once structured stable in FMW, was now in tatters and looking on its last legs, thanks to one man…

So how does Leon feel?




You don’t know what you had till it’s gone. Those three words “I love you”, he didn’t say them enough to Joy. She may never have understood a single word of it, but they meant the world to Leon. He didn’t just see her as another Caprice in the family, but it was love. And in a society that paints those words as everyday words to use. To say I love ice-cream and then to say I love my daughter. It was a pitiful display of affection. Yet here Leon was, ready to spill the words over her again and again and again. But where was she? Who was she with? Was she still alive?

Yet those three words, they were never enough.




So here was Leon Caprice. A Wrestler, a former CEO, a current father, a former Christian and still a loving man. He had been both a singles and tag champion. He had wrestled with the best, he had married the greatest women he came across. Yet through it all, he had lost soo much. A friend, a tag partner, a teacher and mentor, a reliable God, and possibly soon to add…a daughter.

So with all that had come and past, would he have the time to just lie down and just forget the world.




The power of hindsight. To know that everything he’s been through, all that he’s going through. That he is in the richest part of his life and career. He was at a perfect age to take control and burst into a stage of life that flourished with a new hope and a grounded faith. If only he knew, if only someone told him, or if only he could remember where to find a rejuvenated hope.

“Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point.”
(CS Lewis)

Thirty thousand feet high in the air, sitting on his bed, looking at the bright reflection of the sun on the silk of his initialized linens, Leon reveled for a minute in his tainted victory at Death Row for he had actually gotten away without excessive injuries and was now traveling through the sky on a specially designed 727; fast and furious on his way back to The Mansion. In the crisp dry air of the cabin his skin had instantly felt tighter, like it did when he learnt the surprising fact that David had betrayed The Sons of Attrition. There beside Leon in the escalating plane were the trusted remaining members of SoA, The Celt and Hannibal Frost.

Amusingly it was the first time that The Celt and Hannibal seemed to put their constant bickering rivalry aside and focused on a common thought. The ultimate betrayal. The beginning of what could very well derail the entire focus of The Sons of Attrition. If the darkness they fought to keep at bay, had indeed penetrated their ranks, then what was the current position of SoA, were they now obsolete?

They were returning against the maneuvers of their enemies, against their own failings and above all against the overwhelming point that now they were only a three man stable. That a man that they trusted with everything, a man they welcomed into their communal home had disrespectably taunted their kindness. David had taken the best of SoA and traded it in for the newest power of FMW. Truly showing his face as the power-thirsty, snake-like coward he now was.

Celt: How the hell did we not see this coming!?

Frost: Isn’t it obvious.

The look of annoyance spread across The Celt’s face as he swiftly responded to Frost’s condescendly toned words.

Celt: Oh please, tell me how we just got screwed over!

The frustration was clearly exhaled as Celt intently delivered his point, leaving a composed Frost to reply, and an irresponsive Leon Caprice to listen in.

Frost: David saw the power switch, he saw which side would take him further and higher in FMW and he made his call, basic really.

Leon: But where was the decency? The man owed us enough to part on equal terms, not like this.

Celt: It’s completely unjustified and no doubt seen as a dose of attrition.

Leon: Dealt our own poison, oh how the irony.

Frost: It matters little now. The question is, what do we do now?

The three men ponder over those lingering words, questioning their inner-most being to decide what would be the best option, yet the obvious answer would soon arise.

Leon: Well the expansion draft is of course scheduled next show, so that will probably work against us.

Celt: Back to split brands again, well shit.

Frost: It hasn’t happened yet, for all we know, it could work in our favor.

Leon: But you think Bryson and his goons won’t rig it to suit them?

Celt: I’m counting on it! And it’ll only get worse from here.

The realization launched from the words of The Celt echoed through the cabin of the plane, as it resonated within both Leon and Hannibal. It was the truth within those words that dove deep into both men’s thoughts.

Leon: So maybe we should just stay off the map, let FMW sort itself out for a bit.

Frost: Just until the Draft though, from then we can collaborate to form a new direction.

The three men would in synchronized-fashion nod together and accept the conversation’s key points. That until the Draft results were made public, SoA was on hiatus, and for now YNG would continue to reign chaos in FMW.

From one chaos to another, chasing one car to another.

“Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”
(2 Corinthians 12:8-9)

How hard is it to realize that grace comes from the acceptance of weaknesses. To realize that we cannot do everything. That there is a limit and it’s closer than we think.

So what’s the answer to life’s weaknesses? A gift of peace and grace will go a long way, but why not go to the source. Why not go straight to God.

Now that is a grace that Leon needs more than ever, to realize where he is in life, and to realize that he is not done yet, but there is a lot of work to do.




For hours Leon had lain in a kind of gentle torpor, not unlike that sweet lassitude which masters one in the hush of a midsummer noon, when the heat seems to have silenced the very birds and insects, and, lying sunk in the tasseled meadow-grasses, Leon would look up through a level roofing of maple-leaves at the vast shadow less, and unsuggestive blue. Now and then, at ever-lengthening intervals, a flash of pain darted through his body, like a ripple of heat, similarly to the bolts of lightning sprawled across such a midsummer sky; but it was too transitory to shake his stupor, that calm, delicious, bottomless stupor into which he felt himself sinking more and more deeply, without a disturbing impulse of resistance, an effort of reattachment to the vanishing edges of consciousness.

The resistance, the effort, had known their hour of violence; but now they were at an end. Through his mind, long harried by grotesque visions, fragmentary images of the stage of life that he suppressed, tormenting lines of verse, obstinate presentments of pictures once beheld, indistinct impressions of the hospital, babies, and his nervous wife, gathered in the length of journeys half forgotten-through his mind there now only moved a few primal sensations of colorless well-being; a vague satisfaction in the thought that he had swallowed his pride and left the path of killing men for more peaceful beginnings. That he should never again hear the creaking of his assailant's boots, those horrible boots, and that no one would come to bother him about that night in Phil’s remote cabin.

At last even these dim sensations spent themselves in the thickening obscurity which enveloped his; a dusk now filled with pale geometric roses, circling softly, interminably before him, now darkened to a uniform blue-blackness, the hue of a summer night without stars. And into this darkness he felt himself sinking, sinking, with the gentle sense of security of one upheld from beneath. Like a tepid tide it rose around him, gliding ever higher and higher, folding in its velvety embrace his relaxed and tired body, now submerging his chest and shoulders, now creeping gradually, with soft inexorableness, over his throat to his chin, to his ears, to his mouth. Ah, now it was rising too high; the impulse to struggle was renewed, his mouth was full, he was choking. The darkness was swallowing him whole!

Taking him away from the world, allowing him to forget the painful suppressed memories.




All I can see… Looking forward, what can I see? Sarah, Joy, Hannibal, Celt, DGS, Harley, Skyler, Mark, The Mansion, The Homestead, The Church, all the money. What can I see looking forward?

With perfect eyes what vision is cast out before me. With darkness seemingly my ally, with my breath weighted, what will happen next. What will roll through the door next?

I can’t handle it all.

Joy missing
Sarah distraught
SoA on Hiatus
My FMW career in limbo
My friends dwindling in numbers
My God who has abandoned me.

Yet all that I am, all that I ever was, was a man of opportunities. And right now, at 15.2 another one strikes my journey. Another attempt to restabilizes a fraction of my life. To place one corner of my life into the light and breathe clarity into it.

In perfect eyes, that’s all I can see.


The final scene opens to a faintly lit locker room, weighted with the cold musk of sweat and lined with cold steel lockers and deep Jarrah wooden benches. In amongst the stillness of the room sat Leon Caprice, preparing himself for the match in a few minutes time. As he sat there with his wrestling attire already fitted properly, it seemed as though his recent events had taken a stranglehold on both his body and mind as he sat almost motionless against one of the lockers with his head resting into his lowered palms. Beginning to exasperate he slowly brushed his fingers through his hair and gradually lifted his head to a level gaze. With a rather large exhale he rested back into the locker, seeming to be consumed by the darkness within the room, showing the little emotion he still had within him, he was slowly drifting into a void. It was evident in his emotions and posture. He was broken. All comprised by the compiling amount of weight on his shoulder. A weight to act now to fix the problems of the past.

Looking back at the last few months, Leon’s emotions have been nothing short of barbaric, he got actively involved in the pursuit of his daughter and that clearly tarnished his mindset. FMW was also placing and labels it could on him, the shadow of both Skyler and Drew, the lesser of Austin and Apostasy and the cocktail-rider of Celt and Frost.
When was the last time that FMW labelled him with an honourable status? When did people look past the crap of his life and simply encourage or enthuse him. It was a dying thought, as Leon began to realise that even he couldn’t redeem his status in FMW single-handedly. He wouldn’t be able to convince anyone that he deserves anything. It was out of his hands and he was a puppet to his own life, open to the scrutiny of everyone and the support of no-one.

With his thoughts still ticking over and his mind drifting further and further into the abyss, the echoing sound of the PA pushed it’s way through into Leon’s locker room, breaking Leon from his stone gaze and causing him to react almost immediately to it’s call.

PA: Leviticus vs. Leon Caprice in five minutes.

The announcement would push Leon to his feet, allowing the blood flow to gradually build up momentum within his body as he quickly began his pre-match stretches, however that was soon interrupted. There beside the bench where he pondered for the last hour laid his mobile phone, which for this uncanny timing suddenly chirped up. With only minutes to go before his match Leon would swiftly grasp the phone and answer the call with haste.

Leon: Hello!?

Detective Smith: Hello Mr. Caprice, its Detective Smith here.

Leon: Hello detective, how can I help you? I must quickly say that I am rushed for time.

Detective Smith: This will only take a moment sir, I just wanted to inform you that the search for your daughter was now over.

A sense of joy and anticipation overflowed Leon as he immediately responded to the detectives loose words.

Leon: What happened, did you find her?

There was a slight pause in the line, as Leon waited with baited breath as the detective eventually responded.

Detective Smith: I’m sorry to say, that we did find her, but not in a conscious state.

A sudden shock overflowed Leon as he attempted to come to grips with what he just heard. Yet his first response was disbelief, yet to counter it he would continue to ask more questions.

Leon: So what state is she in now? Is she still alive.

Again a pause flowed through the phone call.

Detective Smith: I’m not to sure how to say this. But we found your baby daughter with two bullet wounds piercing through her body, one to the left temple, the other to the heart. When my men finally got to the scene she was well and truly gone.

That was it, there was no holding it back. The last iota of emotion Leon had left was finally being poured into the conversation he now continued with. Evidently unable to reply with words, Leon’s pause would allow the detective to finish his update and leave Leon to drown in the emotional darkness that now coated himself.

Detective Smith: We will require you to sight the body to finalise the investigate, however we can do that at your nearest convenience. For now though I’ll pass on my most humble apologises and prayers a blessing over your family throughout this time.

With a moment to allow Leon to respond, yet go unanswered, the detective would hang up the conversation and leave Leon in solitude with his emotions. Yet as mind numbing as it was now, he still needed to compete in his match. Though the weight on his shoulders now quadrupled in size he would churn his emotions into a singular thought. One that would consume all his thoughts and focus…

* * * * * * *

The crowd erupts in applause as King strides out onto the stage. His old friend, Todd Reicher steps around the desk to give him a bear hug before pointing him to his seat.

Todd: Jon! Thank you so much for joining us again tonight.

King: My pleasure, Todd. I'm always happy to boost your ratings.

Todd: Yeah, yeah. Like I haven't heard that before.

King: Oh admit it, man. You'd be bored without me popping in to give you a hard time.

Todd: Bored? Yes, but oh so much happier.

King: Bite me.

Todd: Not even if you paid me.

King: By the way, for those of you watching at home who missed me last time I was on, I'm one of Todd's oldest nemesis'.

Todd: Ouch, I don't even get to be an old friend?

King: Todd, I beat you up and took your lunch money at least twice a week. That's not normally what friends do.

Todd: Who ever said we were normal?

King: Fair point. However, we're getting off topic.

Todd: We had a topic?

King: Oh Todd, I see you still don't actually read the cards they hand you. You're supposed to ask me about my gaudy new accessory.

Todd: I was getting to it!

King: Whatever you say, man.

Todd: So, Mr. King, why don't you show off that shiny little doo-dad you've got there.

King: With pleasure.

Sliding the belt off of his shoulder, King lays it out on the desk while Todd just stares at it.

King: Tell me Todd, do you know what this is?

Todd: I know it's the FMW Television Championship, I know that you won it, and I know it's sparkly.

King: Oh god dammit, I forgot how you get with sparkly things. No you cannot have it.

Todd: I know, I know. Now distract me, tell the folks at home all about this fun thing.

King: Well, my friends, that is the Full Metal Wrestling Television Championship. It might not be the most prestigious belt, but it's mine.

Todd: I understand you had some issues getting to this belt.

King: Understatement of the year right there. I think I'm 1-6 right now, the only match I won is the one that got me this.

Todd: Wait, if you hadn't won a match yet, how did you get a shot at this beauty?

King: Well, I wasn't supposed to win. I was meant to lose to the Human Beard, Monroe.

Todd: What do you mean? You were meant to lose?

King: Whenever management gets a new signee that they like, they throw them a bunch of losers and misfits so that they can get that first big win.

Todd: And you were thrown to Monroe?

King: Not just me. There were a few of us. Some British dude, a guy with a Paper Bag over his head, a new guy no one cared about, a has-been with anger management issues, some moron that brought his wife down to the ring with him, some egotistical little bitch, my stable-mate Sean Jensen, and of course, the Human Beard himself.

Todd: That seems like quite a bit of a risk factor for management, wasn't it?

King: Yeah, but in their eyes, it was a lot of bodies for Monroe to pile up.

Todd: But...

King: No buts, the Beard did good, knocked out more than his fair share, but in the end, he couldn't get the job done and I walked away with the win.

Todd: The head honchos probably didn't like that.

King: Not at all. So they booked me in another match where I was supposed to lose.

Todd: And what happened there?

King: I lost.

Todd: Oh fun.

King: Only because of what happened after. The big boss man himself came out and handed me my title.

Todd: Sounds like a good show for you, overall.

King: I'd have to agree, but the past is the past, my future is the fun bit.

Todd: Oh?

King: Yeah. You see, I have to defend my title on every show. That means a match, and TV time for me every single week.

Todd: Unless you lose the title.

King: Come on Todd, you've seen what I can do. Do you really think that'll happen?

Todd: Maybe. Who are you facing?

King: Oh fuck. I can't even remember his name. Something like Jazz Hands.

Todd: So I take it you don't find 'Mr. Jazzhands' a threat?

King: Nah, he's some wanna-be tough, who thinks that being raised poor means that I should be scared of him.

Todd: Well, I know I'll be tuning in to see what happens. We're almost out of time, but before we go....

King: Yes, you may try on the belt.

Todd starts to giggle like an idiot, jumping to his feet and grabbing the belt. He fastens the title around his waist and poses for the cameras as King comes up behind him and wraps an arm around his shoulders. King tousles his hair before pointing at the camera.

King: Don't worry folks, Todd will be right back, don't go away!

King raises Todd's arm, laughing as the cameras fade to black.

* * * * *

King: This could be good.

King is sitting around a table with Leviticus and Sean Jensen, in the center of the table is the object of their conversation, King's championship.

Leviticus: It's definantly good.

King: Well yeah, but it could be REALLY good.

Sean: I had a belt like this once, over 'there'. Fucking MS Paint.

King: Okay.... Anyway. This isn't just a title, it's the Television Championship.

Leviticus: A tier four belt.

King: That's true, it's not exactly a prestigious belt, but it's the stipulations that will benefit us the most.

Sean: Go on...

King: A guaranteed match, every single week. A guaranteed opportunity to show everyone just how good I am.

Leviticus: We. How good we are.

King: Who has the championship? That's right, me.

Leviticus: You're an insufferable prick, King. We're a team, exposure for one of us is exposure for all of us. We win and lose as a team, which is why we didn't kick you out after you went 0-5.

King: Why is everyone focusing on the past? I'm a champion now!

Leviticus: We're hoping it'll deflate some of that ego if we keep reminding you that you suck.

King: Ha! Good luck with that, Dad's been trying it for years.

Leviticus: And good god do I wish it had worked.

King: Yeah, yeah, yeah, shut up.

King puts his title in his overnight bag and slings the bag over his shoulder. He starts to head for the door when Leviticus stops him.

Leviticus: Are you ready to go prepare for your match?

King: Nope. I'm going to go hire a few strippers and get wasted.

Leviticus: Oh good, might as well make it easy for Dazz tomorrow.

King: You're kidding right? I don't even have to show up tomorrow to beat that punk. He'd find a way to get pinned by the referee.

Leviticus: Yeah, but-

A cell phone starts to ring, cutting Leviticus off. King pulls out the phone in question and shushes the others as he answers it.

King: King here.... What! …. How? When? ….. Oh. Okay. I'll be there.

King hangs up the phone and drops his bag.

King: I think I'm going to cancel the strippers.

Sean: Why?

King: My Dad just died.

Singles Match
Tyson Van der Zar vs Matt Dunn (w/ Crusoe)

TV Title Match
Jonathan King (c) (w/ Crusoe) vs Dazz Andrews

Tournament Qualifier
Derek Levy vs Adam Smith

Tournament Qualifier
Leviticus (w/ Crusoe) vs Leon Caprice

Tournament Qualifier
Harlequin vs John 'Doc' Derrick vs Ryu Quinn

Tournament Qualifier
Chris Austin vs Abel Steele

Main Event
Pandoras Box Match
Anwyl vs Skyler Striker

Singles Match
Tyson Van der Zar vs Matt Dunn (w/ Crusoe)

TV Title Match
Jonathan King (c) (w/ Crusoe) vs Dazz Andrews

Tournament Qualifier
Derek Levy vs Adam Smith

Tournament Qualifier
Leviticus (w/ Crusoe) vs Leon Caprice

Tournament Qualifier
Harlequin vs John 'Doc' Derrick vs Ryu Quinn

Tournament Qualifier
Chris Austin vs Abel Steele

Main Event
Pandoras Box Match
Anwyl vs Skyler Striker

Singles Match
Matt Dunn (w/ Crusoe)

TV Title Match
Jonathan King (c) (w/ Crusoe)

Tournament Qualifier
Adam Smith

Tournament Qualifier
Leon Caprice

Tournament Qualifier
Harlequin

Tournament Qualifier
Chris Austin

Main Event
Pandoras Box Match
Skyler Striker


This is fucking ridiculous. Horrendously, comically, unfathomably ridiculous. Seriously.

Singles Match
Tyson Van der Zar vs Matt Dunn (w/ Crusoe)

TV Title Match
Jonathan King (c) (w/ Crusoe) vs Dazz Andrews

Tournament Qualifier
Derek Levy vs Adam Smith

Tournament Qualifier
Leviticus (w/ Crusoe) vs Leon Caprice

Tournament Qualifier
Harlequin vs John 'Doc' Derrick vs Ryu Quinn

Tournament Qualifier
Chris Austin vs Abel Steele

Main Event
Pandoras Box Match
Anwyl vs Skyler Striker

Have you ever wondered just how much good you do?

I constantly wonder about that kind of thing. In fact some would say I worry about it entirely too much.

I worry about it because of my past. I worry about it because of my faith. I worry about it because of all the people who might be affected by the good I do or do not do with my life.

You see in a world full of people who do so much wrong, someone must stand up for what is right.

The way I see it that person should, no must, be me.

Sometimes I wonder though, just how much good do I really do?

**************************************************************************************

It was early. The sun was just barely out and most people were just heading out to work. Leviticus was not one of those people. He had already been at work for at least an hour. These early starts had become a regular thing for him ever since GSW first started making itself known in FMW. After all, if the plan was going to be successful someone had to put in that extra time to make sure everything turns out right.

He had already visited the boys in the media room to take a look at some of the video packages they were prepping for that weeks Slaughter, went over the list of public appearances he was scheduled to make, and even went down to meet up with Bryan to discuss the newest addition to the training staff. Altogether it had been a productive morning, and he still had plans to run some ring drills with Bryan. First though, came a cup of coffee.

He sat there in the cafeteria of the GSW office building, in the same chair he sat in every morning. He had been thinking quite a bit about the impression GSW had been making in FMW and how things never quite seemed to work out right. It didn’t matter if it was marquee matches or even just an award show nomination, GSW was losing more ground then it was gaining. This troubled Leviticus and he planned on having a meeting to “rally the troops” but right then he had to take his mind off of things. He wasn’t going to accomplish anything by letting himself get bogged down by the current state of things. That was why he had bought the newspaper that sat on the table in front of him.

He sat his cup of coffee down and flipped the paper open to the local news section in hopes that some exciting news would be going on in Miami. What he got was something else entirely.

SIX KILLED IN GANG VIOLENCE

The headline screamed across the top of the page without even the slightest hint of subtlety. Immediately Leviticus’s mind began to race as his eyes scanned the page. It didn’t take him long to find the list of the deceased and as he scanned them he hoped that one of them would be absent.

Mike Winston age 19

As he read the name Leviticus’s heart filled with sorrow. He leaned back in the chair and put his hand over his face as he tried to take in what he had just read. As he did his mind went back to the first time he had met Mike.

**************************************************************************************

THREE MONTHS AGO

Leviticus was excited. He loved going out and making a difference in the world, especially if it meant helping other people. When the Miami Police Department had contacted him about coming in to help counsel young gang members he leapt at the chance. Considering his past he knew the price that these young people were paying in the streets, and considering his present he knew that they could get out of it.

He sat there in the empty conference room at a table that was just as empty. He had been told that they were going to assign him a young man to mentor and that the young man’s name would be Mike Winston. Mike had been arrested for robbery a few months ago, but had been a model inmate. That was why he was given this chance. Leviticus wondered what Mike was going to be like as he sat there. Was he going to be as brash as he once was? Was he going to want a way out of his current lifestyle? Would he even be willing to listen to what Leviticus had to say? All of these questions and more ran through Leviticus’s head as he sat there and waited.

The buzzing of the door snapped Leviticus out of his thoughts and back to the present. It didn’t take long for the door to open. As soon as it did Leviticus got his first glimpse of Mike. He had his hand shackled in front of him and wore an orange jumpsuit but that didn’t stop him from walking like a man who had something to prove. The guard beside had a hand on his shoulder and the other hand on his nightstick in the event that Mike tried to go about that proving. As he got closer to the table Leviticus took a closer look at him. Mike’s hair was up in braids, and the gang tattoos he had were visible, but beyond all that Leviticus saw something He saw a young man who needed a chance. He saw a young man who could provide something to the world if he got out of his current lifestyle.

He also saw himself from many years ago.

Mike walked over to the table and stood there as the officer pulled out the chair for him. As Mike stood there Leviticus looked up at him and smiled. Mike simply stood there and kept the same cold expression he had entered the room with. A few moments later Mike sat down and the two were now face to face.

Leviticus: Hello Mike. My name is Leviticus.

Mike didn’t even bat an eye.

Mike: I know who you are. I’ve seen you on TV.

Leviticus smiled. Usually people who were wrapped up in the gang lifestyle tended not to associate with outsiders on a deeper level. However, since Mike already knew who he was, maybe there was a chance.

Leviticus: Do you know why I am here?

Mike nodded slowly.

Mike: You wanna help me get outta the game.

Leviticus watched as Mike spoke. If Mike’s facial expression was any indicator he was none to thrilled with the idea of “getting outta the game”. Leviticus didn’t let that phase him though. He knew he had the chance to help Mike. All it was going to take was a little determination and a whole lot of patience.

******************************************************************************************

TWO MONTHS AGO

Leviticus sat there at the table with a smile on his face. He had been making the visits every few days and he was finally starting to make some progress. Mike had finally began opening up to him. The two had discussed everything from music to wrestling. In fact Leviticus had made an arrangement with some of the guards so Mike was able to watch him perform every time he was on television.

The door buzzed and Mike entered the room the same as he always did, only now he didn’t have to wear the handcuffs and he even had a little smile on his face.

Mike: What’s crackin Levi?

Leviticus smirked. That was a greeting he hadn’t heard in quite some time, and it was much more pleasant to hear it now.

Leviticus: Not much Mike. How is it going for you?

Mike lowered his head and glared at the table.

Mike: Not good.

Leviticus frowned.

Leviticus: What do you mean?

Mike didn’t look up.

Mike: Some fool got in my face, and I busted him in the jaw.

Leviticus closed his eyes. Mike had told him that he had a temper, and they had been working on it. Apparently they hadn’t been working hard enough.

Mike looked up at Leviticus with a look of regret on his face.

Mike: I didn’t mean to….

Leviticus held up his hand and Mike’s words stopped immediately.

Leviticus: It’s in the past Mike. We can’t change the past, all we can do is be better in the future.

Mike sat there for a minute and pondered Leviticus’s words. As he did a smile slowly crept across his face.

Mike: I like that.

Leviticus smiled. He had spent a great deal of time with Mike and the two were quickly becoming friends. Leviticus knew that Mike only had a little bit left on his sentence so he had to work fast. Part of his plan was to get him out of the pressures of jail and into the real world. He had come up with an idea that would help Mike see just what he could do if he broke away from the gangs, and see it first hand.

Leviticus: You know, I’ve been thinking, how would you like to see me wrestle?

Mike made a face that showed that he thought that Leviticus was messing with him.

Mike: I watch every week dawg.

Leviticus smiled even bigger.

Leviticus: I mean in person.

Mike’s face lit up and he hooted in excitement.

Mike: You for real?

Leviticus nodded.

Leviticus: Oh yeah.

As soon as the words exited his mouth Leviticus stuck his fist out. The two bumped fists and then pounded them on top of one another.

Mike: that would be pimp bro.

Leviticus nodded.

Leviticus: Alright, I’ll make it happen. What I need for you to do is keep your nose clean until I do. Got me?

Mike smirked.

Mike: I’ll keep my nose cleaner then Kleenex.

The two shared a laugh for a few moments.

Leviticus: Good. Now, let’s talk about that temper.

******************************************************************************************

ONE AND A HALF MONTHS AGO

Leviticus watched as Mike walked through the backstage area of the arena GSW was performing in that night. For all his street taught bravado Mike looked like a kid living a dream. Leviticus was glad he was able to allow this to happen. The two continued to walk down the hallway toward the locker room when they spotted Jeff Whitt walking toward them.

Leviticus: Jeff!

Jeff walked over toward the two of them with his Florida Championship belt slung over his shoulder.

Jeff: What’s up Levi?

Leviticus smiled and gestured toward Mike.

Leviticus: I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.

Jeff smiled as he offered his hand to Mike.

Jeff: You must be Mike.

Mike smirked and nodded.

Mike: That’s me.

The two shook hands and exchanged some pleasantries. Before too long though Jeff noticed that Mike was eyeing the belt that was hung over his shoulder.

Jeff: Would you like to hold it.

Mike smiled.

Mike: Yeah, I would.

Jeff handed Mike the belt and Mike promptly threw it over his shoulder.

Mike: Your winner and new champion Mike “Tha Balla” Winston!

The three men laughed as Mike handed the belt back to Jeff.

Leviticus: Looks like we may have a future roster member on our hands.

Jeff nodded.

Jeff: I’d like to see that.

Mike beamed at Jeff’s words.

Mike: Just let me finish my time and I’ll be here.

Jeff smiled and patted Mike on the shoulder.

Jeff: Sounds like a plan. I have to run but I promise you’ll see a Talent Show tonight.

The two shook hands one more time before Jeff headed down the hall. The two continued down the hallway and stopped and made some small talk with several other members of the GSW roster. As they did Leviticus couldn’t help but smile the whole time. Maybe he was doing some good for Mike after all.

******************************************************************************************

TWO WEEKS AGO

Leviticus stood outside the processing room at the jail. The only person who had been waiting for this day longer then he had was the man he was here to pick up. This was the day that Mike was allowed to go back out into society.

Mike stepped out of the office and smiled as he looked at Leviticus. Without speaking a word the two men shared a brotherly hug. After a few moments the two men were headed out of the jail and toward Leviticus’s car.

Leviticus: I want you to know that I’m proud of you bro.

Mike shook his head.

Mike: I couldn’t have done it without you playa.

Leviticus shook his head this time.

Leviticus: It was you Mike. I just helped push you a little bit.

Mike stopped in his tracks and Leviticus took a few more steps and stopped to.

Leviticus: What’s the matter?

Mike stood there for a minute deep in thought.

Mike: Am I ready for this?

Leviticus walked over to Mike and put a hand on his shoulder.

Leviticus: Yes, Mike, you are ready for this. Now let’s get going, your new life is waiting for you.

******************************************************************************************

ONE WEEK AGO

The sound of a phone ringing woke Leviticus up out of a dead sleep. He slowly rolled over and picked the phone up and placed it to his ear.

Leviticus: Hello?

The voice at the other end was one he recognized. It was different then before though, it seemed rushed and panicked.

Mike: Dawg, I did something dumb.

Leviticus sat straight up in his bed as soon as he realized who had called him.

Leviticus: What did you do Mike?

Mike stammered for a few moments as he tried his best to figure out how to say what he was trying to say.

Leviticus: Talk to me Mike.

Mike stopped stammering and blurted out the answer.

Mike: I was trying to sling some rock and got jacked.

Leviticus’s eyes went wide. He hadn’t spoke fluent Ebonics in some time but he knew that Mike had just told him that he was trying to sell some crack but that it had been stolen from him.

Leviticus: Where are you?

Mike stammered again and finally answered.

Mike: I gotta go dawg.

The phone clicked in Leviticus’s ear. Immediately Leviticus jumped up and began to get dressed. He wasn’t sure where Mike was, but he was going to find out.

******************************************************************************************

NOW

Leviticus never found Mike that night. He had driven around for hours, but come up with nothing. That didn’t stop him from looking. In fact he was still looking. Everyday when he got lunch he would drive around town and look for Mike, and he did the same thing after he left the GSW office. He looked and looked but never found his lost friend.

The last conversation the two had haunted him, more now then it ever had. He wasn’t sure what it was that made Mike go back to the street, but he now knew where it had led him.

Leviticus lowered his head as he tried top fight back tears.

Leviticus: Heavenly Father, please be with Mike as he enters your kingdom. He is a good person. He has just made some mistakes. Take care of him and let him know that I’ll see him when I get there.

Leviticus couldn’t fight back the tears any longer and his prayer became the sounds of sobbing.

******************************************************************************************

I want to do good, but I often wonder just how much good I really do.

I put myself out there and I give my all but it never seems to be enough.

I have tried to help the FMW fans and they hate me for it.

I have tried to perform to the best of my ability every time I step into the ring, but no one has noticed.

I tried to help Mike change his life, and now his life is over.

How much good do I really do?

I don’t know.

If I look at my results the answer is not much.

You see Leon, that is the funny thing. We are scheduled to be opponents at Ammunition. We are supposed to go into the ring and hate one another. We are supposed to try and murder one another on live television.

I can’t do that though.

You see, when I look at you I see someone just as broken as I am. I see someone who wants to help people just like I do. I see someone who reaches out to others only to fall on their face. I see someone who, despite falling, gets back up and keep trying.

I can’t hate you Leon. You ‘re too much like me.

That is why I want to help you.

You see, with everything we have in common we shouldn’t be enemies. We should be helping each other. You deserve better then this Leon, I just have to help you get it.

I have to help you Leon.

It may be my last chance to do good in my career.

Have you ever wondered just how much good you do?

I constantly wonder about that kind of thing. In fact some would say I worry about it entirely too much.

I worry about it because of my past. I worry about it because of my faith. I worry about it because of all the people who might be affected by the good I do or do not do with my life.

You see in a world full of people who do so much wrong, someone must stand up for what is right.

The way I see it that person should, no must, be me.

Sometimes I wonder though, just how much good do I really do?

Ammunition 15.2
from the Orleans Arena in Las Vegas, Nevada

Singles Match
Tyson Van der Zar vs Matt Dunn (w/ Crusoe)

TV Title Match
Jonathan King (c) (w/ Crusoe) vs Dazz Andrews

Tournament Qualifier
Derek Levy vs Adam Smith

Tournament Qualifier
Leviticus (w/ Crusoe) vs Leon Caprice

Tournament Qualifier
Harlequin vs John 'Doc' Derrick vs Ryu Quinn

Tournament Qualifier
Chris Austin vs Abel Steele

Main Event
Pandoras Box Match
Anwyl vs Skyler Striker

People say that love is the strongest emotion one can have. I disagree. I have seen men possessed by something far stronger than love; weird, strange and sometimes horrifying deeds committed by men with an agenda – men who are driven not to follow one thing but to stop another.

Men who are driven by hatred.


Mrs. Webber Let me read this to you.

Taking a deep breath, grade three teacher Mrs. Webber begins to read from the sheet of paper in front of her.

“My name is Jason. I am eight years old.

I like wrestling. My dad sometimes takes me to wrestling shows that are near our house.

There is a wrestler called Dylan Ryder who comes to these shows. He is my favourite wrestler ever. His finishing move is called the Peacemaker. It is really cool how he flips his enemy over his head and slams him on the ring.”

Mr. Lewis: And what’s the problem with that? Jason loves the wrestling; it’s one of our favourite activities!

Mrs. Webber I haven’t finished.

“But Dylan Ryder does not come very much. I wish he came more. Because he does not come much I like to watch wrestling on the television.

I like to watch a show called Full Metal Wrestling. They have a lot of really cool wrestlers. I really like Skyler Striker. He is my favourite after Dylan Ryder.

I like Skyler Striker because he likes to fight Drew Michaels.

I hate Drew Michaels.”

Mr. Lewis: What does it say after that?

Mrs. Webber Nothing. That’s where the report ends.

Mr. Lewis: What?

Mrs. Webber That’s what I’m trying to say. Jason is progressing very well despite his learning difficulties, but this is the first thing I’ve seen from him that worries me. He doesn’t like one of the wrestlers because his favourite doesn’t like that wrestler either.

Mr. Lewis: But he’s just a kid – he’s just trying to emulate someone he looks up to!

Mrs. Webber I know, Mr. Lewis, I know. But this kind of irrational hatred… it’s not healthy at this age. I don’t know what I can suggest other than maybe you could help him to find a new favourite in this show he watches.

Mr. Lewis: I guess I could… but he really likes this wrestler.

Mrs. Webber I know – he’s talked to me about him before. But nonetheless it might be a bit healthier for him if you found him a new wrestler to watch. Whoever Skyler Striker may be, if he’s got something against Drew Michaels, Jason is going to be adversely affected by a hatred we don’t know the reason for.

Mr. Lewis: …alright. Thankyou, Mrs. Webber.

Mrs. Webber Any time.

I didn’t come back to fight for titles. Let me say that now. I didn’t come back to fight for gold, or for money, or for anything that shines in the sunlight.

But I did come to fight.

What I do in the ring is as much an art form as it is a career, and is as much a mental struggle as it is a physical one. No matter which way you see it, it is a fight. And it’s what I love to do. The thrill of matching your wits against someone else’s, of anticipating the move, thinking five steps ahead when he’s only thought three. That’s why I love this sport. It’s challenging.

I’d be lying if I said that I’m only here to fight. Everyone has their reasons and I’ve got a few bones to pick and a few faces I’d like to introduce to the mat.

Tonight I’ve been told I’m fighting for the C4 Championship. Well, either the C4 Championship or something bigger, we’ll have to wait and see. But tonight, when I enter that ring, my mind won’t be going to the title, or thinking about something beyond.

My mind will be working at the speed of neurons, anticipating my opponent’s move. Deciding where and when to strike. And knowing exactly where the decisive moment is, so that it’s his shoulders on the mat on the count of three and not mine.

And Anywl… they WILL be your shoulders on the mat.

Matt Dunn

Jonathan King

Derek Levy vs Adam Smith

Leon Caprice

Harlequin vs John 'Doc' Derrick vs Ryu Quinn

Chris Austin

Skyler Striker

Singles Match
Tyson Van der Zar vs Matt Dunn (w/ Crusoe)

TV Title Match
Jonathan King (c) (w/ Crusoe) vs Dazz Andrews

Tournament Qualifier
Derek Levy vs Adam Smith

Tournament Qualifier
Leviticus (w/ Crusoe) vs Leon Caprice

Tournament Qualifier
Harlequin vs John 'Doc' Derrick vs Ryu Quinn

Tournament Qualifier
Chris Austin vs Abel Steele

Main Event
Pandoras Box Match
Anwyl vs Skyler Striker

Ammunition 15.2
from the Orleans Arena in Las Vegas, Nevada

Singles Match
Tyson Van der Zar vs Matt Dunn (w/ Crusoe)

TV Title Match
Jonathan King (c) (w/ Crusoe) vs Dazz Andrews

Tournament Qualifier
Derek Levy vs Adam Smith

Tournament Qualifier
Leviticus (w/ Crusoe) vs Leon Caprice

Tournament Qualifier
Harlequin vs John 'Doc' Derrick vs Ryu Quinn

Tournament Qualifier
Chris Austin vs Abel Steele

Main Event
Pandoras Box Match
Anwyl vs Skyler Striker

You will die, and I will take over
The dream will be achieved
Because I’ve got something to prove and nothing to lose
I’m giving it my all
This is the moment, the moment where I prove to the world
That I am more than talk
That my actions can back me up
The opportunities there Anwyl
And I’ll so gracefully and gleefully take it from you
My pretend smile turns into a smirk
A smirk that you want to knock right off my face
A force laugh and its lights out, your corpse drop
Nighty-Night Muthafucka

Anwyl is sitting at a large oaken desk, A old hardback book lays in his hands as he softly turns the pages. Anwyl starts to finger the leather bound book, paying attention to the details.

NOT REALLY! HIS WATCHING PORN ON HIS LAPTOP!

That was an unnecessary joke, but it’s there so as the narrator guy or voice I must continue. Anwyl puts his head up from the pages

Anwyl: Oh, sorry I didn’t see you there. Narrator man, you’re fired!

FUCK YOU MAN, Anyways... Anwyl puts down the large book with its pages open somewhere in the middle.

Anwyl: I am just sitting here looking back on what I have personally achieved in my debut year in FMW! And before I get into this wonderful Anwyl production I quickly compiled a list, a short list of the moments I hold dearly

Anwyl adjusts himself in his chair

Anwyl: As my documentary is in post-production and my mini-series has concluded I am taking you on a journey through sound and time, of wrestling and entertainment

I look back to the first pay per view I debuted in, The Mount Vesuvius Match. A match that left me battered, bruised and in a jumbled mess. It started the winding path, the rise to glory. I came into the match, number two following Chris Austin, at that time the C-4 Champion. He’d tried so hard, he was the Superstar of the Year and he could not beat me down early. I knew then that I was going to be a big deal; I knew my moment was coming

Anwyl pauses and signals to his left! A blonde haired man is pushed into view!

Anwyl: Here are a few words from Australian Winter Olympics Gold Medallist, Steven Bradbury!

Steven Bradbury: I didn’t actually watch it, but I hear Anwyl did something cool.

Steven gives thumbs up and walks off. Anwyl looks at Steven with utter disgust and turns his attention back towards the camera.

Anwyl: Jump forward a few shows, some more forgetful than others and it brings me to the No Holds Barred, left without a match I was thrown into the Tag Team Scramble, I proved my dominance once again! I wasn’t eliminated, I held my own while my partner was disposed of, and Gold Standard Wrestling had nothing over me that night.

Anwyl burst out of his seat, as if he were a war veteran telling an epic battle. His voice picks up a little more confidence as he puts emphasis on every second word

Anwyl: The flame was ignited then. The burning flame of desire, the desire to succeed, to be something, to be someone

Anwyl slows down; he raises a finger and starts to soften his voice. Talking a little faster each sentence

Anwyl: The streak, the streak began. I began to demolish my opponents, two, three and four second matches. I had the hunger, I knew who I wanted, I knew what I wanted, I wanted Chris Austin’s head on a spike, and he was the top dog in my books. He was the best, and that’s what I wanted to be. The best, I got Alexander O’Rion instead, a man with more problems, with more shit going downhill. He was a head case, I showed him, I showed the Doc as well. Alex stepped in my way; he interfered with me, with my goals, my DREAM, MY FUTURE!

Again Anwyl boasting about his career so far, jumps back out of his seat. He lifts up the book and shows the photo of a battered Alex O’Rion! Anwyl is now shouting every word possible

Anwyl: YOU SAW WHAT I DID TO HIM, WHERE HAS HE GONE. DISPOSED OF, LIKE A DIRTY PIECE OF TRASH.

Anwyl slows down and quitely explains to everyone...

Anwyl:My chance is now, my first opportunity to fight for what I want. The only thing that stands between me and the future is Skyler Striker.

All those moments led to here, and this is where I become. THE FUTURE!

I’ll take pleasure knowing that I’m the future
Nobody will stand in the way of Anwyl when he paves the way
The way of the future
I’m a true born leader
A wrestling revolutionist
I’m leading my one man assault on the very history of wrestling
You can be a former champion
But in the ring you’re the prey
Forever the hunted
Your blood’s in war paint under my eyes
A notion to the next guy that I’m the real deal
You will die, Skyler
Anwyl is here to take over!

Chris Austin versus Abel Steele

It was only at the beginning of the year we were last on a collision course. Chris Austin was a mediocre performer who had promised much but delivered little. I was the fast rising newcomer setting the business on fire. Everything I touched turned to gold, literally in the case of The Gold Card.

I wandered into that match thinking everything would just fall into place. I thought that I would win and continue my domination of Full Metal Wrestling.

How wrong I was...

Chris Austin emerged from that match as a man on a mission. He would soon adopt the “Student of the Game” premise and go on to levels that in all likelihood will earn him FMW Superstar of the Year honours.

I on the other hand saw my career enter a tailspin; flat lined by a man who had a reputation to uphold. The truth is Chris Austin had far more to lose from that match than I did and he fought like a man who knew as much.






I was never very good at school.

It’s not that I was a bad student. On the contrary, I was a hard working, turned up more often than not and never gave the teacher any lip. But for all my determination and diligence I was, shall I say, limited in terms of a natural aptitude that was gifted to many of my classmates. “Solid C+” is probably as good a summary as I could give of my school career, in the class room anyway.

However, if you asked my teachers they would tell you, I excelled in almost every other area at school. I was a member of the Football, Cricket and Basketball teams; my performance as Hamlet put many a professional performance to shame. Yet perhaps my greatest achievement at Governor Stirling High School was one that went unrecognised by the faculty.



With a quick glance around the room at his peers Abel took in the surrounds of the place that would be his second home for the next five years. The school assembly hall was a tired old building; the walls were lined with pennants and honour boards documenting the proud history of one of the premier government high schools in Western Australia but beyond that the roof was in disrepair and the carpet was about ten years past its useful life span.

The air was a little musty; no doubt a result of the leaky roof and battered carpet, but the smell was overpowered by the suffocating blend of one hundred and twenty sweaty, nervous teenagers covered in about three times the required amount of deodorant.

Most of the students sat in groups, those from each of the surrounding primary schools banding together as they eyed off the other groups with a mix of apprehension and excitement. A few of the students sat in the middle of the room. At the center of the entire group but totally isolated. Abel was one of those students. He had moved to the area recently and didn’t know a single person at the school.

With a clatter the door to the assembly hall burst open, swinging on its hinges as a large boy rushed in followed after a short gap by a handful of teachers and other school staff. The boy strode confidently through the younger students picking a path that took him on the most direct route to the lectern at the far end of the hall. The students somehow rolled out of his path as one, like the Red Sea parting before Moses.

Excuse me.

Looking up from his spot on the carpet Abel looked the older student in the eye, showing none of the intimidation that his peers had felt. He pointedly looked at the empty space around him, which was rapidly growing as the other students rushed to remove themselves from the confrontation.

I said excuse me.

I heard you.

The older boy tapped his foot impatiently on the carpet and raised one eyebrow at the smart mouthed youngster who dared defy him in front of the entire Eight Grade class.

Careful; you might wear a hole in that carpet.

Abel saw the fire burn in the boy’s eyes, and braced himself for the onslaught. He hadn’t intended to cause any trouble but damned if he was going to let anyone intimidate him either.

C’mon Tim.

The boy; Tim, stepped around Abel as he sat unmoved on the floor, a glare that could have melted the polar icecaps left behind for Abel as the boy made his way to the front of the room and stood to the left of the school Principal as she welcomed the new students to her school.

And now let me introduce to you all the School Student President, Tim Mathieson.

As the principals stepped away from the lectern Tim stepped up to the microphone and began speaking to the group of students in front of him.

Well, looks like I managed to piss off the most popular kid in school.

Abel wouldn’t remember the words Tim spoke that day. What he remembered was the way his peers lapped up every word like drug addicts. Here was the guy everyone wanted to be telling them that if they studied hard they could be just like him.




Get up.

Abel wanted to get up, badly. He wanted to get up and strike down the boys standing over him. He was fairly sure he could too, after all he hadn’t lost a fight since kindergarten.

I know you want to boy.

My name is Abel.

I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone who gives a shit boy. All I care about is teaching you a lesson.

Really? I have Home Economics next; where’s your apron?

The kick to the ribs wasn’t an unexpected response. Despite the fact the kid had brought half a dozen of his mates Abel noted that Tim appeared to have some skill in fighting.

Cute.

Another kick for good measure knocked the wind completely from Abel’s stomach. As he lurched on the floor gasping for air Tim stood above him like he was a disobedient dog.

This is my school boy. You will show me the respect I deserve or you will face the consequences.

Go to hell!!!

Abel jumped up from the floor, having recovered his breath. He leaped into the two boys nearest him and dropped them both to the floor. His blows were filled with fury, but none of the skill that he would one day possess.

Fortunately for Abel the other boys, despite being older than him, clearly relied on intimidation than skill to rule the school. As the last one dropped to his haunches, clutching what would Abel would later discover to be the first ribs ever broken by his hand, he turned and faced the chief protagonist.

You’re an angry little ant aren’t ya?

Abel didn’t pause to reply. He was going to crush Tim just like he had all of his friends. But as the blood splattered across the wall of the boys toilets Abel knew he had underestimated his opponent. He never even saw the blow coming.





Chris Austin will tell you that he has dominated me in our past match ups. That he has proven he is better than me. Setting aside the fact we have only faced off once mano a mano, Chris Austin as the self proclaimed “Student of the Game” should know better than anyone that things change.





The rest of Year 8 consisted of Tim taking every chance he had to show the rest of the students that he was still King of the School. Abel took the punishment silently, not complaining to the faculty. He couldn’t even complain to his friends at school, mostly because he had none. All of the kids were terrified of Tim and his gang of schoolyard bullies. Associating with Abel was likely to end in them being targeted too.

Still it wasn’t like Abel wasn’t doing anything about it. He knew he had the determination and ability to beat Tim. He just needed the proper training. Instead of wild fists that would knock down a tree if they landed Abel spent every afternoon at the local gym. In fact Abel was thankful to Tim for the beatings, without them his entire boxing career would likely not have ever eventuated.

Tim was no fool though. He could see Abel training, getting stronger, faster and most importantly smarter. About half way through the year the beating slowed and then eventually stopped. There was no explanation but Abel knew the reason. Tim was scared; scared to face an opponent who now had the training and skills to match his passion and raw ability.

Abel was impatient for his chance to prove that he could hurt Tim like he had been hurt so many times but he also knew that Tim was a smart opponent. He never left himself alone when he thought Abel could be around. Whilst his gang of friends were not much of a threat they would be enough to tip a fair fight to Tim’s advantage.

So Abel waited.

And waited.

Knowing that one day Tim would find himself with no choice but to fight him and knowing that he now had all the skills to make sure he capitalised on that moment.

Finally the opportunity came.

One morning Tim arrived at school late. Abel would discover years later that he had been visiting a sick relative in hospital and maybe that contributed to the confrontation, because Tim was in a foul mood. As he strode onto the school grounds Abel was in the middle of a cross country run. As their paths crossed Abel bumped into Tim’s shoulder with significant force, causing the older boy to drop his school bag.

Pick that up.

No.

Pick it up now.

No.

Pick it up now or else....

Or else what!?

Tim launched an assault on Abel that was far more viscious than any of his previous beatings, but Abel was up to the challenge. Sure he took a few hits but he delivered a few blows himself. Soon enough both boys were dripping with sweat and blood covered the floor around them. Only some of it was Tim’s which probably accounted for why Abel was staggering around like a drunk.

I’m going to enjoy this

Tim lunged forward and delivered what he thought was going to be the knockout punch but as his fist flew forward suddenly the staggering ceased and Abel made a perfectly timed sidestep delivering a stiff right to the jaw of his tormentor.

You broke my jaw!!

WHACK!!

Abel drove his left fist as hard as he could into the face of the older boy, feeling the crushing bone beneath his knuckles.

And now I broke your nose.




Word of the fight spread quickly, as these things always do. By the time teachers arrived on the scene however Abel was gone, continuing his cross country run, leaving a bleeding and battered School President to explain he had fallen up the stairs on his way to class.

The teachers had no choice but to accept Tim’s story, but the students knew immediately what had happened. This was proven, if by nothing else than the fact that at lunchtime that day, for the first time in his High School years Abel sat surrounded by his peers all of them with respect and admiration on their faces.

For the next four and a half years Abel was the sheriff of the schoolyard and no one picked trouble with him. Unlike Tim however Abel never picked trouble with the other students. Instead he spent his time continuing his training.




Chris Austin has told you that he has a right to be in the FMW Championship Tounrament. That he has already proven that. He tells you that he shouldn’t have to face off against me for the honour.

I tell you that Chris Austin is scared. Scared of the day he will be found wanting. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow or even this year, but, as sure as the sun rises, the day will come.

Chris Austin, like the rest of the FMW roster is constantly required to prove that he is still the best. That is the very nature of professional wrestling. Don’t let him fool you into believing otherwise. Those are simple school yard bully theatrics.

And beating down schoolyard bullies is my specialty.

Ammunition 15.2
from the Orleans Arena in Las Vegas, Nevada

Singles Match
Tyson Van der Zar vs Matt Dunn (w/ Crusoe)

TV Title Match
Jonathan King (c) (w/ Crusoe) vs Dazz Andrews

Tournament Qualifier
Derek Levy vs Adam Smith

Tournament Qualifier
Leviticus (w/ Crusoe) vs Leon Caprice

Tournament Qualifier
Harlequin vs John 'Doc' Derrick vs Ryu Quinn

Tournament Qualifier
Chris Austin vs Abel Steele

Main Event
Pandoras Box Match
Anwyl vs Skyler Striker